Over the Hills and Faraway Book 4: Soldiering On
Copyright© 2013 by Jack Green
Chapter 13: Execution
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 13: Execution - When you're down the only way is up. Re enlist with Dewey Desmond as he starts his climb back up the ranks. He goes on active service abroad; and actively services broads at home and away. He meets old flames, and fights fire with fire. He says goodbye to an old friend, and displays some cold blooded behaviour. Things are looking good for Dewey until a cataclysmic event diverts him down an unexpected path. The designated codes encompass the entire story; their usage will vary within chapters
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Drunk/Drugged Heterosexual Interracial Black Female Oriental Female Safe Sex Oral Sex Anal Sex Public Sex Violence Prostitution Military
I was probably the only person in #4 section that greeted 'reveille' at 0600 with any sort of enthusiasm. I was eager to get to grips with my task but the rest of the lads were hung over and shagged out.
Although four Bugsy Girls had been reserved for the section's exclusive pleasure only four of us took advantage of the girls' considerable expertise and charms. I had remained celibate, while Chaz Bowyer, Doc Watson, Tabby Catesby, Fin Wayke and Budgie Finch had local girlfriends, who not only took ample care of their sexual needs but were also present at the club last night. That left Rumpole Stilkins, Crispy Day, Harry Hawke and Gadz Hill as the swains of the four Bugsy Girls.
Rumpole looked like death warmed up, as he had indulged in some extensive, energetic and extremely enervating, groin to groin combat with the Bugsy Girl who rejoiced in the name of Iron Gerda.
I made sure they all got some breakfast down them, as we would be doing hard graft for most of the day. Neddy Claypole had been given the job of getting a meal out to us at midday, and woe betide him if he didn't.
By 0700 we were on site, shirts off and digging – two men per grave. I was with Rumpole, who gradually sweated out the beer he had drunk, although his previous evening's amorous activity had severely weakened his digging prowess.
At 0800, dead on time, Astrid drove up in her Danish Army Medical Service Ford Escort. I stuck my beret on my head and saluted her – no shirt ( I'm too sexy for my shirt ), but properly dressed as I was wearing headgear.
"Good morning Corporal." She smiled as she returned my salute.
"Good morning Ma'am. Is there any news of the three seriously wounded villagers you have been treating?"
Astrid looked thoughtful. "Two of the wounded, a young boy and a young girl, are now stable, and should make a full recovery. The other, an older woman, has lost a leg and is very weak. Do you know these villagers?"
"Not really, other than by sight, but we have names for them all, and we are all concerned about them."
She nodded "Yes I can see how you would feel compassion for them, and it does you and your men credit that you should care. I will tell the three in hospital that you asked after their health."
She then changed the subject. "I will be requiring assistance in changing dressings; I have spoken to your company commander and he has agreed that you can assist me."
"Where will the dressing station be situated?"
"The Imam has allowed us the use of his house; he will be either at the cemetery or visiting the bereaved all day."
Astrid turned and walked away, and I pulled on my shirt and combat jacket then picked up my SA80A1 rifle, ready to follow her. Rumple's mouth had remained agape during all this time.
Eventually he spoke. "Who is that gorgeous looking woman?" I told him, and he whistled. "I think I might apply for the combat medic course if I get to meet sexy women like her."
"I thought you only shagged Japanese girls – and Iron Gerda?"
"I'd make an exception in her case."
I sent Rumpole off to tell Doc Watson that he would be in charge of the section while I was on detached duties, and then made my way to the Imam's house. Astrid was already dealing with one of the injured, and for the next half hour we worked silently and efficiently.
Astrid was one hell of a good nurse, as well as being one hell of a woman. She had raised her eyebrows when she saw me carrying my rifle into the room but made no comment.
Big Ben's voice announced his arrival even before he had entered the room.
"It will be about half an hour before Corporal Chandos' section reaches the bridge, they had trouble starting the APC, so I will pop along to see the lads on digging duty, and then pay my respects to the Imam and the bereaved."
He paused at the door on his way out. "My Land Rover is parked under the trees about twenty metres towards the road." He noticed my rifle under the table. "Do you think you'll be needing that, Dewey?"
"I'm taking it as insurance, Boss; being in Bandit Country, and with only five rounds for the sniper rifle."
He nodded. "Makes sense – have you got plenty of ammunition?"
"A full mag of thirty on the rifle and another full one in my ammo' pouch."
After Big Ben had left to speak to the lads digging in the cemetery I gave it another ten minutes then made my way to the vehicle. As I was leaving through a side door of the house, which led directly into the trees, Astrid said.
"Bernard has shown me the location where I am to meet you. Good luck, David." She kissed me on my cheek, her breath warm and scented, and I wished that she had laid her soft lips on mine.
The M 91, with the optic sight and magazine fitted, was lying underneath a tarpaulin in the back of the vehicle. I checked that the barrel and working parts, plus the rounds in the magazine, were clean, although I knew Big Ben would have ensured that they were. The sniper suit was also lying under the tarp, and soon so was I.
Quarter of an hour later Big Ben got in the driving seat. "The game's afoot." He said, then started the engine and drove along the road towards the bridge. He pulled up about twenty minutes later at the location chosen to drop me off, which was out of sight from both the Bosnian Serbs and our men. This was also the spot where Astrid would meet me after the job had been completed.
I climbed out of the Land Rover and debated whether to put on the Ghillie suit, but decided it wasn't needed yet.
"We had better synchronize watches." Big Ben said. He pulled his Half Hunter watch from a pocket of his waistcoat and peered at the face. "I have ... oh eight fifty three." I set my watch, a 'genuine' Rolex, bought for £25 off a stall in Petticoat Lane, to the same time.
"I reckon you shouldn't take more than hour to get into position, so I will arrive at the bridge at ten. Give it another fifteen minutes for any unforeseen eventualities, and you should have fired on the Land Rover by ten fifteen." I nodded in agreement. "Should you not be able to fire, for any reason, by that time we will abort the mission. I don't want to be prating about in front of the Serbs for too long. They will get suspicious when the APC moves away from the bridge, and may realise it has parked up in a blind spot. We may have to try this scheme again at a later date, and by then the Serbs might have relocated that heavy machine gun if they realise it has been badly positioned."
He held out his hand. "Good luck, Dewey." I shook his hand, then slung my SA80 over my shoulder, wrapped the Ghillie suit around me like a bandoleer, and made my way at a jog trot through the woods, with the M 91 carried in the trail arms position.
It was far easier, and quicker, to clamber up the bed of the small stream than I had expected, although I carefully checked for wires fastened to Claymore mines or flares. I saw nothing suspicious, as I suppose the swiftly moving water would have dislodged any explosives the Serbs might have laid. At the top of the ridge I listened intently, for any sounds of a standing patrol, but heard and saw nothing. I quickly crossed the Sarajevo road and made my way through the trees; a glance at my watch showed I had at least ten minutes before Big Ben made his appearance at the bridge. I moved slowly and cautiously towards the edge of the tree line overlooking the river and road, and then discovered the first problem — I couldn't see the bridge from my viewpoint.
The tree line started a good twenty metres back from the edge of the ridge, and I would need to move out from the concealing trees, and get onto the ridge to find a good position to fire at the Land Rover. I struggled into the Ghillie suit, not over concerned at being spotted by the Bosnian Serbs, who would be watching their front, especially when Big Ben made his arrival, but more anxious at being seen by our lads.
I crawled slowly out of the trees onto the ridge, until I had sight of the bridge. Big Ben's Land Rover was just drawing up to it, and the APC was making its way back down the road to its, I hoped, safe location. I looked through the 'scope at the Land Rover to determine where I was going to place the two shots. I didn't want to put one in the engine block or fuel tank, and settled for the driver's seat, and the mid-section side, as the targets.
Big Ben and Danko got out of the vehicle, and I saw that Big Ben was carrying a megaphone – I wouldn't have thought, with the volume of his normal speaking voice, he would have needed one. I then became aware of something happening at the machine gun position, which was at my 2 o'clock, and about 250 metres downhill from me. It looked as if the crew of two were moving sandbags, and I remembered Big Ben saying that it was the amount of sandbags at the ends of the weapon pit that prevented the machine gun from being re aligned.
Was the M 87 now able to traverse and fire on the APC? I was in a quandary; should I fire the two shots as arranged or wait until time ran out, and Big Ben aborted the plan?
I was still debating the point when Big Ben started talking through the megaphone. He asked, well no, he demanded, that he be allowed to search the area for those who had attacked the village, saying that he had eye witnesses to identify the culprits. All lies of course, and Big Ben knew damn well that he would not get any help from the Serbs in tracking down the assailants.
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